To Ask For Something Great
by yourmacha
Summary: /Between nights, she holds me- tames my demons and we begin to dream our angels free. / a melloxnear, Meronia story
1. Chapter 1

I don't know the exact reason today is any different than the previous days.

It could be because it's the first day of winter; the first day of waking up shivering underneath thin sheets with cold feet.

Or perhaps it's the fact that Mello is here, in my room, with me pinned down and his hot breath causing all the microscopic hairs stand upright along my neck. Maybe it's how he is on top of me, with his glistening cerulean eyes gazing at me rather not dreadfully nor threatening, but passionate and I dare not say lust-filled.

Well, how?

There was a knock on the door and I thought it's just one of those orphans Roger calls to get me to eat breakfast, for I usually skip it, and before I even had the time to speak he already found his way within an uncomfortable vicinity with a deathly glare. His fists clenched and I assumed the results are out, and of course I was never wrong.

But I guess I was in some part of it, especially when that's not entirely his problem.

My eyes are wide, which doesn't happen often, and I remained unmoved. For one I knew the blond is definitely a million times stronger than my pathetic and non-existent force and another is because I'm confused, and still thinking of options and ways to escape this situation, if there is even any.

"Near."

Here we go again.

"Mello."

How we say each other's names and everything will just end there. And I hope the outcome will be the same right now, because my predictions run dull when it comes to things relating to anything physical and emotional.

"I don't even know why I'm trying." He whispered.

"Why have you ever thought of doing all of this in the first place?"

"Because I _know_ I'm better than your fucking albino head."

Sometimes I agree with that sentiment. Is he indeed better than me? I think the whole universe will say he is, but then he ignores that fact and stoops down into basing himself with numbers written at the left corner of mere papers. It's a very shallow way of thinking and I guess that inferiority complex itself is what makes him a rank below me. Like I said emotions will be constant weights and it will keep you from passing beyond your capabilities and why can't he accept that?

At the same time I go back from the start and believe he's better because he understand raw nature itself when I can only come into terms with its logical elements.

"Then that's how it is. Let me go."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I know I can. I can fucking pin you down whenever I want, kick you, hurt you, punch you and that's how it is! But shit- why?!"

"...Mello?"

My world blackened out and all I could feel is the roughness of his lips. It moved fast and violent on mine while I didn't respond to any of it. He bit the bottom of my lip, pulled it, growled and it bled. I realized where the overwhelming smell of leather came from and it was his gloved hand covering my eyes shut, as if he didn't want the sight of them staying open emotionless because in fact, they are.

It hurt, even if I was used to it. It hurt that I forgot Mello was kissing me.

Mello, the walking fire God, kissing me, the robotic Near.

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I hate that you're perfect."

"I'm not."

"I hate it that _I_ see you flawless. Perfect. It fucking breaks me because I know what it means."

I don't.

* * *

That day went on with the same flow except for that morning and night. That evening I didn't sleep. I was used to keeping my eyes open until the first sun ray reaches it, but what bothered me is the false reason behind it.

 _Mello_ kept me up all night.

That's a first. I've never paid attention to him unless he begs for it - through every bloody way possible. I could swear that I never noticed how he smirks when he gets something right first, or how he tilts his head when finds an interesting movie come to an end, or how his cerulean eyes dilate just with the sight of his addiction or - I never thought about it.

I rolled to my side as I glanced over the clock. 3:52 a.m. Not the latest but it could be worse later if I don't even start trying to lull myself into slumber.

I'm used to the cold. But then my lips weren't their usual chilly and dried state. Both of them were hot and numb, and I will never figure out the reason behind it. I must admit, thought at the same time I will never do so - that the sensation felt relaxing and good.

I sat down in class, on a seat at the very corner back of the room, and stared blankly at the window. No one pays mind, or even spares a 'hello' because they know I'll never respond. I don't think they are even aware of my presence.

And that's how I like it. The less contact I have with people the stronger my foothold on being an outsider. The outsider watches everything unfold before him without getting involved and being the irrelevant character in the story makes you see the things the main characters are too blind to notice. I may seem to underestimate myself but everyone is simply not good enough to understand the benefits of being constantly invisible.

The noise suddenly vanished and my eyes trailed over the the blond. As usual, with all his glory, he walked in like a God. Everyone saw him as a God. Let's not forget the royal henchman, the third of Whammy's, long-term smoker and technology genius, Matt. Mello's only best friend, the one and only person Mello looks straight into the eye.

Unknown to everyone I wished he'll do the same to me. He did - yesterday.

A small crowd gathered around him and I turned even before we made eye contact. Then again my thoughts prevailed, how Matt is practically the luckiest person in this orphanage, having Mello by his side 24/7.

It's not like I envy his position but rather, considering the fact how all orphans fawn over the fiery boy and kiss his feet anytime, he is fortunate in the eyes of the universe. I may be the first in some thin piece of paper on the wall but that doesn't define the reality that's going on.

"Looking disgusting as ever, twat. Not like you can do anything about it." A familiar, intimidating voice said. Mello chuckled. I'm used to the remarks alright. Now that I think about it, more bruised nights and nightmares may come. First is he might feel all the right of hurting me because of what had occurred, and second I might have clicked a switch and made him more furious than ever. All I can do is cuddle myself or pitifully crawl back to the nurse's office and, that's just a never ending cycle I suppose.

They laughed. Laughed like it's the funniest thing ever to see him say all those despicable things to me. I'm not hurt - that's completely not the case. I just feel angry of them, how they gained the right to be in this very classroom, in this very orphanage, as ignorant as they are.

I could feel the burning stare from a pair of blue eyes which I refused to acknowledge. He made his way near my seat - where he actually sat, much to my disbelief - and brought the shallow crowd with him. Most of them are girls, and I already know why, since he's been blessed with decent looks as well. He's got a 'bad boy' aura everyone gets intoxicated about, and there's Patricia who's the bravest and actually clings to him. He gives her glares but never pushed her away, since he's got his morals as man nevertheless.

There were buff teens, some even taller and stronger than Mello but they worship him like a King. They are all servants, except for Matt who is his dog, and I don't mean any offense but that's how he is.

I kept my eyes averted from the scene. It gets to my nerves though, since they all ask those stupid questions and I could feel my mind sighing for the millionth time. The snow fell with melancholy and it can't get any better.

"Oi, are you actually mute? You never talk."

"You look so freaky! Do you dye your hair white or you're just really the son of a devil?" A hand grabbed me by the collar but my expression remained uninterested. In fact I could feel fear building up but will I let them see such weakness?

The crowd gradually came to me, cornering me like I was a mere prey. They laughed hysterically as they tried poking my cheeks, a few girls annoyingly touching my hair and, they are _touching my hair._

I jerked away from their prying hands and I involuntarily cringed. "Don't touch me."

"WOOO finally mustered up to courage to fight aye? Bet you can't even lift a single flower! We can do anything we want with you, you little shi-

Strangely, the burning gaze from the blond left me and I lifted my head.

There was a flying sound and I couldn't quite register what happened but the boy who's been calling me names already has his left hand on his purple cheek with a shocked face. All of them stared, and I did the same. The perpetual silence was caught off by a raspy and frighteningly dreadful voice.

"Know your fucking place, and I hope this is a lesson for every single shithead of you all: Near is my property, I can do whatever I want with him because he deserves it for what he's done to me. I'm the only one who's got that right and neither you, or her have any reason to touch even a strand of his hair. Fuck off and I'm giving you bitches three seconds to run."

He was serious and the couple few who were left received killing kicks from Mello by their testicles. All of them ran except for Matt who already has his attention on us instead of his gaming appliance, an 'o' shaped mouth along with an amused expression. Mello turned his heels directly to me and our eyes met. They look calmer now and I had questions rolling over my face. He never defended me, and what's more scandalous is the fact he shouted enough for everyone to hear that he claimed me as some property of his.

"Mello! Near! Office now!" A female voice called out. Mrs. Higgins stood by the door with her arms crossed, a couple of the battered students behind her. They shrugged in fear but then it appears that she was there when the rendezvous happened and we failed to notice. Mello huffed and ran his fingers through the smooth, gold locks and stomped to the door. I mentally hit myself and dragged myself behind Mello, also with the redhead with his eyes stuck on his game console as we scurried to that old man's office for the umpteenth time.

* * *

"What did you do this time?"

"Not my fault."

"That sounds like something a kid will say when he's done something against the rules."

"Why is it always me that does something? I fucking did something alright, but I didn't start that something."

"Language!"

"Whatever. No connection."

I sat across from Mello who lazily slumped himself on the wooden seat. Roger sighed and fixed his glasses as if to contemplate. I don't know how I was called as well; this should be between those six students and Mello himself. Though Roger always assumes everything is about me when it comes to Mello's outbursts, well it's partly true.

Roger faced me and licked his lips, "Where is it?"

"I don't have any." He perked up at the statement and knitted his brows. He tried again, "This has happened so many times and lying doesn't change anything."

"It's quite shallow of you to think every movement Mello allows is all about me being the center of it. I am not involved with any of this, as far as you're concerned." It is true. Roger doesn't have to know the cause, or every detail and sentence Mello spilled. Physically, I am not part of the problem.

Roger studied me for a moment and nodded. There were no signs of pretending or pain so what else can he say?

"What happened to the lot back there though?"

"They were annoying."

"How?"

"You never told me you were a part-time psychiatrist. If that's all can we leave? This is getting pointless." Mello glanced at me blankly. The elder man sighed again and knocked the table for final thoughts while Mello stood to leave.

"That would be great. One week detention, Mello."

"When the fuck did detention ever exist in this place?"

"Right now. You made it." Mello laughed and slammed the door open, almost banging it close to my face as well. We were met by the gamer, who always waited on the same position leaning against the wall even for hours during times we had an actual argument with the elders, and he waved a gloved hand at Mello and the blond followed suit. I was still looking at the ground until their backs are all in sight, with Matt slumping his arm on Mello's back laughing.

I never heard him laugh around anyone else nor truly socialize like how Mello does. He will always be there but he's not the type to initiate conversations. Most of the time people come up to him and he just replies with simple and short greetings and smiles. I suppose that's how he's on the good side of everyone even without literally bonding with them.

He's charming even if he's a complete shut-off nerd, almost similar to myself, and the only difference is that I'm Near.

Robotic, monotone, heartless, all just figuratively black and white.

I witnessed them walk away and when I myself was about to do the same, Mello looked back, an unreadable expression on his face and I'm quite sure I had one plastered on my features as well. Sadness? No. Sympathy? Who knows.

It's not my job to figure out things like that; that will always be Mello's task.

* * *

I entered my white room, and I honestly felt clean again. White walls, very minimal furniture, a white bed, and a really dull gray flooring. It's neat, perfect and organized. Sometimes too neat that I'd miss the speck of black filth.

Or maybe Mello.

He contrasts with all I am.

I placed myself in the middle of the whole space and surrounded myself with toys: trains, robots, cities, loose lego parts and puzzles. They are all different but they coexist perfectly; maneuvered by me. They build a whole new different nation, side by side, they builds great walls. I filled in every tiny gap until I formed a whole circle around me. There were people in them, and I felt like they could protect me. Not a single loophole and that's what makes it formidable.

I brought both my knees up to my chin and stayed like that. Yes, this is genuine peace.

These little toy soldiers are standing there and everything is alright.

 _It's alright._

Until a shrieking bang resounded in the empty room, and he was standing there.

He clicked the lock and I knew I couldn't run away.

He knows my secrets. He knows how these mere plastic figurines make me feel safe; And he's going to destroy them just because of that.

"Near."

He walked to me, observing my defensive position and the circle of broken old toys. Of course, he will put a gap between them, maybe throw a punch or two across my pale face just to make himself feel much better. After every time we get called, he gets insecure. The more his mind tells him the mistakes he's done and he would need an outlet. So much feelings are always bottled up in his lithe body that he explodes regularly. Although he would snap at Matt, he would never hurt him.

Not when he _loves_ him.

This is just one of those days, isn't? Quite ironic because I will be literally be left out in the cold, since it's the cold season and my freezing body always make matters worse. But then why is he taking off his boots? He removed his leather jacket as well, padding forward to my haven as he slouched down. He touched one of the soldiers, but didn't move them any further. I didn't look at him because I'm certain I don't want to see anything more than the reasonable explanation behind all this.

Carefully, sneakily - he stood, lifted his right leg and stepped into the circle. He tip-toed until he sat down on the place right beside me. We were so close I felt his heat rise up the electricity in my body; and we exchanged them. I gazed at him into the windows of his soul, and they were nothing but compassionate.

Mello, the entity I've been shielding myself from, is now inside my only solace in the world.

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

I shivered when his hot breath hit my face, and I averted my obsidian pupils when I noticed the remorse slowly taking over his straight features.

"Why would Mello be sorry?"

I wanted to remain unmoved and numb. However, he grabbed my palm and pulled them close to his lips, and he proceeded to kiss every finger, every knuckle. I tensed, my eyes completely wide with shock for the first time, and my heart raced at the gesture. It was so overwhelmingly warm and gentle that I flinched, and attempted to pull my slender hand away. He gave me a serious look, one that says not to even try, and this time he gripped my whole entirety towards him until I flopped on top of him. He stroked my face, and without a second thought, he took my second kiss.

This time, it was lighter, less passionate and brief. Though, it said so many things.

Like _stay,_ or _please understand._

How come I've read them so perfectly?

"...why?"

"I can't help it." Mello then wrapped his hands around my waist and snuggled against my neck. A sigh of contentment came past his lips, and oddly everything felt right. As if it's some long lost matching puzzle piece, as overly romantic as it sounds.

"But Just behind closed doors."

"I _hate_ you."

There's an alarming danger welcoming me but nonetheless, I knew it will never hurt so much. It will just between Mello and I, after all.

"Just behind closed doors." I repeated, assuring him.

He's the fear that lingers under my bed and the scent of my own blood.

Mello is my opposite. He's mine that way.

And sometimes he loses himself when monsters devour his mind.

He cuddled me close and I allowed him to believe whatever he wanted regarding this situation. During these times I remain quiet, and surprisingly hold myself from reminding him of the reality which will always be our endless difference and competition. He never once touched me so intimately, but whenever he breaks down I seem to the most significant thing in his universe. It lasts a week or two until we return back to our habitual routine of copiuos rivalry. We both pretend that nothing happened and we sticked into that lie so much it has turned into truth. Though, I find no fault of Mello needing a breather and it happens to be me contributing to that.

"I hate you." He whispers breathily into my ear.

"I know."

Just like a child, he crawls to me and I embrace him. I inwardly sighed, knowing I would be doing this for days, and to add up the burden we'll have to this unbeknownst to everyone. I almost laughed at the the thought of him taking advantage of me. I'm like his personal punching bag, at the same time I act as a comfortable bed to sleep in. It's irrational but then that's Mello. Irrational is Mello.

"You're warm." He says. I don't know how he can spill such innocence and say how much of failure I am in just one day.

 _Today is one of those days. When Mello crashes down and forgets everything. After he'll just stand up again, filled with energy and forget then again. Still, why is this day any different?_

"Why can't Matt be the one right here...right now...?" Silent, heavy droplets of water touched my skin. Matt did it again - cheated - after all. He does it so many times I'm used to it, and I don't even have the will to confront him about it. Mello is too yet he comes to me crying all the time. He says his Mattie will never hurt him.

It's foolish _. Foolish is Mello._

* * *

 **a/n MUST READ**

 **this story is going to be depressing! cheating and everything! all confused with first love and that kind of crap :) Though, if you like angst with happy ending then here you go :) the characters will be confusing, and Mello and Near's relationship will be really really complicated. Mello is messed up but Near is actually trying to help Mello by doing what he wants. Though, what if Mello takes it too far, and Near will start wanting just a little bit more? But then again Near is just a comforter, an anger outlet, and far from being a lover. Will these two ever come into terms with their feelings? MELLOXNEAR WITH SIDE MATTXMELLO BUT IM TELLING YOU ITS MELLOXNEAR**


	2. Chapter 2

I was sitting on the bed, my knees bucked up as usual with my irresistible urge to move. However, I can neither move an inch nor a centimeter, knowing he will wake up from the slightest sense of movement. So I stayed motionless, watching his features change from the most peaceful creature to a wild animal living in the most dangerous environment even in his dreams. The later part is no lie.

Whammy is a dangerous place. In some ways, you can never get a subtle sleep void of worries. Nightmares will always come, one after another, and Mello and I are not the only ones who see them even in the morning when we wake.

It just continues.

Then, the long figure beside me shifted, and his face scrunched with distaste. Sweat began to bead his skin as he clenched the cotton pillows, speaking inaudibly for me to fully comprehend. I watched him drown in the darkness of his mind, slowly, until he began to scream.

These kinds of horrid dreams are nothing extraordinary. They will always happen and we are bound to handle that alone. For Mello, it would be as easy as inflicting the same pain on me so it would seem it never happened to him, but me instead.

But this is one of those nightmares where Matt is in them, so I won't allow it.

With my minuscule amount of courage left, I grabbed his shoulders and shook him awake. His whispers got softer as my call to him got louder in every second.

"Mello, wake up." I say again. The screams stop and his breath evens. Frightened blue eyes slowly open from the illusion that trapped him a few moments ago. Just as instantaneously his fears vanish and is replaced by new found neutrality.

When I expected a change of vulgar words and curses, they don't come.

He scratched his eyes and flipped on his side with his back facing me, "What time is it?"

"Six-thirty." I whisper.

He sighed and stood up, combing his messy locks with his fingers and they freely fell on his shoulders. I remained immobile with my eyes hooked on the sheets, hoping and strongly wishing for Mello not to notice the deeper bags beneath my eyes. I just wish he won't see through my facade and know how I didn't get a single rest last night.

"I'm going before anyone else wakes up."

"You always do." He stood just beside me, staring blankly with unreadable gestures. I knew that it was my last thread of courage to meet his challenging eyes as a scowl slowly formed in his lips. He didn't say anything, but I took note of the slightest change.

The slightest sign of life now flaming his eyes compared to the night before where they were their utmost empty.

His fearless gaze observed me and I returned it fairly with an unaffected stare. Yes, he has reignited his fire, just like he always does. No matter the catastrophe he somehow finds a loophole to get away from it the next day. He does not forget them because that's impossible, and none of them are reversible. Though contradictory to every human belief he doesn't change. Society can never change him they way they want him to be. One day - right now, filled with a new sense of motivation he repeats the same cycle. The same cycle of mistakes and he never learns from them.

Like Matt, for example. But it would be hypocritical for me to say such.

"This doesn't mean anything. It doesn't change anything." He spits venomously.

"Did I say it will?" I know it will not. Mello doesn't change. Neither do I.

Though, why do I feel that today is still different?

Is it because he doesn't slam the door on my face without a single word, but instead he pulls my head towards him and places his lips roughly on my bruised ones?

Did this happen before? Indeed not.

"See you around." He smiles. The moment he leaves I halt all my distracting motions, focusing solely with the ringing silence that is my room and the lingering heat on the opposite side of my bed. My toy soldiers didn't help me mend the emptiness this time. No, not now.

I hate Mello.

I hate how he leaves his presence in every corner of my little plastic world and expects for nothing to change. I don't know if he's the same way but I just can't help but want a little bit more.

* * *

The walk to Geography class was the longest I've had.

I'm certain it's because it's not something I voluntarily want to be in, and also the little problem of Matt and Mello being there closely sitting beside me. For one I don't want to stumble upon any of their pointless scrambles and, two, drama is bound to happen whenever both of them are of the same proximity.

I sighed for the second time this morning.

I entered the class without a single sound made, not like anyone would notice. The first person that came into my view was Matt, wearing seemingly all the same striped shirt with his orange-goggled eyes plastered on the blaring screen of his game console. Matt has always been quite mysterious in more ways than one. He never talked to anyone except Mello and occasionally myself, but other than that he continues to keep his opinions behind the sepia tints of his goggles. He didn't fancy the idea of being the greatest detective and so he never put as much concern in the competition as Mello and I. Now that I think about, Mello might be one of his reason why he never strove higher, perhaps he won't get the same treatment any longer if he does.

I greeted him with my silence, and he acknowledged me with a slight shift in his position. We need no words to express everything we want, and I suppose that's a sort of dynamic between the three of us.

I sat down, waiting for a few moments for the chocoholic blond to appear but to no avail. Just then I took the opportunity to quench my own curiosity.

"What happened?" I said vaguely. He didn't show any motion of response but I noticed him pause his game. Right now, he's just staring at the screen without doing anything as if his mind is trying to decipher the hidden message behind my statement. He doesn't turn to me.

I asked it partly wondering the situation and status between him and Mello, but most of all, what made him do it.

"I didn't. He's just thinking too much." He said fast and quietly.

"What happened?" As soon as I repeated a tall blond already stood by the door, watching us intently but throwing glares at the redhead for most of it. He didn't come any further so I pretended not to notice him.

So Mello is making too much of a big deal out of it now?

"It's weird because there's nothing going on anyway." Before I noticed myself twirling the curled lock of white hair, I already had stopped doing it and my perspectives returned to square one. My understanding of it hit the lowest level. That moment, I knew he meant: _"He's thinking too much but there's really nothing to salvage anyway. He's the only one who thinks we are a thing."_ Matt never said something so bold before, but now he did, and so my control lost itself then again.

This is a new puzzle. This battle is not the same one.

"I see." My eyes traveled on the spot where Mello once stood, only to find it empty and disappointment washed me.

Matt pulled out a cigarette, putting it between his teeth as he bit it. He craved the addictive nicotine to cleanse his taste, and even though I am hardly certain for what the effects will be, strangely, they put the same effects on him as Novocaine does.

That's why Matt is below Mello and I. He likes it numb.

He likes it free.

As I shut my eyes close, blurring all senses for a moment, a loud, familiar crash resounded that only I am capable to hear.

* * *

I'm the only one who knows where he will be. Perhaps Matt does but he doesn't feel the odd yet immense connection between us rivals. Furthermore no one can read Whammy's second better than me when Mello is the embodiment of danger and he tend to shut anyone off. Although Mello seems to be an open book compared to Matt and I he was never sincere with his intentions either and most of the time, he dodges them with his temper as reason.

What do I do with him? I know this isn't the first time I've offered consolation to him but figures that the situation is worse and simple verbal exchanges won't calm him down.

I walked down the hall, counting rooms and taking steps to the blond's room. Anxiety immediately runs over me in small waves when I find his room empty.

 _Crash._

The sound reiterated through ever wall as I thought how close it is. A bubbling sense of suffocation erupted in me as I realized where the crashes came from.

But why would he be there?

After a few doors I arrived at the familiar, completely cream-white room I've grown tired of seeing. My already crippled figurines stomped and torn apart for the second time. Pieces scattered all around and I felt grave disappointment overshadowed the worry, but along with it was relief of seeing his prominent, black-clad figure bring color in the room.

"Mello." I buried all sorts of emotions with a cold tone of his name.

He turned to meet my accusing gaze with tear-stained cheeks. More tears vandalized his fresh, smooth skin as he saw me.

"I...I..." He shamelessly stuttered.

Whatever occurred to me, I didn't care about it. All I knew that right now all he needed is contact and not some useless mind game I've grown a habit always throw.

The most perilous being I've ever met is utterly fragile and weak beyond imagination. It sent electric shock through my nerves and a claustrophobic feeling in the desolation of my own space. His pain melted the ice surrounding my stand and that's all it is.

Pain. There's no opposite, or actual synonym. No matter what you call it to be it will always be pain and that's all it will ever be. Just that, killing and choking pain and you can never deny it.

No, love is not constant - pain is. It's the only thing constant.

Though, now that I see pain itself etched in every curve of his face, I thought how it can't be that way. Whether it is reality or not, that one thing constant between us is this rhythm of hate and trust. Somehow, we can turn this pain upside down.

"Mello...come here." The moment my arms parted, he quickly ran into them. His muscular arms wrapped me so tight I couldn't breathe, but I was used to drowning so I didn't complain.

Sobs broke out and the wetness on my shoulder got heavier. I moved one arm and used it to lock the door. I pulled him to me and we sat on the floor while pitifully rocking each other back and forth. Minutes felt like hours as Mello cried, getting louder and louder every time. I ran my fingertips through his tangled, sun-kissed locks and soon after I deepened the action until I managed to have fistful of his hair.

Mello never cried.

He saw his own flesh and blood burn yet he was always strong enough to keep them bottle up in a jar.

Is it alright for me to think that he only cries with me?

His warm body completely entwined on me is a foreign and once in a lifetime sensation. His pride will not allow himself to do this for the second time around, and with the thought of that I did my best to have my arms encircled around his torso perfectly and tight.

I won't let go. Not anymore.

H elifted his eyes, and I knew I reflected his sadness with my moist, obsidian eyes. We were both surprised, and I struggled to wipe the threatening drops of water but how can I, his lips got to them first.

He kissed each eye repeatedly, as if it's his fault. Then, his lips crossed my nose, and went to my forehead again. He traced my jaw and temples, until he touched that one place I wanted him to.

Our lips crashed and it felt like it's the only right decision I've ever done.

His hands regained their motion and moved to my hips, gripping my sides and clawing the soft skin there. He rubbed my back in circles and I gripped his shoulders, trying to make us close than humanely possible.

He lifted me and I gasped through wavering breaths, gazing at his fiery blue eyes with blur. They stared right at me and they whispered, screamed and then begged for me...and only me.

My lips trembled with desire and he caught them again. I laid on my back and let him crawl on to me as he nipped on my neck occasionally; trailing wet kisses along my nape. Will it leave marks? I hope they will.

Then, I felt our flames burn out. I opened my eyes without noticing they were closed the whole time and returned his satisfied and relaxed state of mind. His features softened, and the peace that I prayed for was answered.

The nights when I slept alone were compensated by his small smile, and I thought that right now we are not opposites, but the image of each other. How is this possible?

These are the only times, with his neck nuzzled beneath my chin as we both savored each others scent with intertwined arms, that I believe in a supernatural man residing in the sky.

He let this happen even under the worst circumstances of our fate, and I can't be anymore grateful. This may be the only memory I will cherish and bring to my grave.

Literal hours passed and the sun set. I wanted to nudge Mello awake so maybe, we can welcome the night together. But then I don't want him to leave, and I obviously don't feel like sleeping alone tonight.

Pleasant thoughts plagued my mind despite the tomorrow that is bound to come. As I slowly dozed off to a dark yet comforting oblivion, a single tear escaped and I was too emotionally and physically exhausted to think over.

That night, I dreamed Mello was mine.

* * *

a **/n okay te progress might be slow, but then I think all of you alrweady know what kind of story this is going to be...right?**


	3. Chapter 3

_"What are you doing, Mama?" He asked, a cold breeze brushing the tip of his nose.._

 _"Don't."_

 _"Mama?" It was winter after all._

 _"Just don't."_

 _"But-_

 _"Didn't you hear me? I said I don't want to hear your fucking voice!" She slammed her fists._

 _Tears began to prickle the five-year old's hollowed eyes, "...I just want to say happy birthday." With that, he held up his present. It was a card that he made for two days, changing the paper a little more than many before he was satisfied with the self-made card. Along with it was a necklace, which he earned by keeping all his weekly two pound allowance untouched to buy it._

 _He's happy and he just wishes the same for his mother._

 _"Mama?" Worry spreads quickly on his face as he watched tears stream down her face. Sadness coated every inch of her being as she limped towards her only and last son, and the little boy couldn't have been more frightened._

 _"This is for you."_

 _"Do you want mama happy?" He nodded his head instantly, making a bubbly noise. He wanted nothing but happiness for his mom, and he once saw that when his father was still here and they were complete. He had a little sister and a cool pair of grandparents too. But now that they're gone, he's doing his extra best to make her smile again._

 _"Yes."_

 _"Then die."_

* * *

I forcefully pushed myself to sit up from the cold mattress that's barely shunned by the small amounts of sun. I'm used to the chills that run up my spine every now and then but, not today. I didn't expect it to be cold today in spite of the snow outside.

My sleeved fingers traced the wrinkles that formed a figure laying there just minutes ago, absorbing the excess heat through the slightest touch of my fingertips. Disappointment slowly engulfed every cell of my minute body and a frown graced my lips.

When did he leave?

Yesterday, well, I don't want to think about it. I'm afraid to say it's the best I've had my whole life, the little things like his thumb rubbing circles on my back and his sweet breath warming my nape. Subtle, careless yet gentle touches didn't take so much yet meant so much. The world. No, everything, in fact.

But he's not here, and I might be imagining the whispers of supposed affection that he spoke and it remained echoing in my deserted mind. Though, it felt too real. His eyes. His eyes are beautiful.

I slumped back on the bed and rubbed my eyes. My fingers found its way to my odd, white hair and began tugging them out of their roots. I can't help it.

"What am I thinking?"

I was sure that none of this were this way in Mello's perspective. He always told me so, and I always knew with the slightest shift and change. Emotions rule the blond and he never wanted any other way. He felt stronger with them and honestly, he still is. I believe in his intellectual capabilities which is undeniable, , but it just so happens that unfortunate occurrences happen quite more often than not. For an instance, his own conscience taking over his rationale and most of all, letting himself fall too deep literally and metaphorically.

You can say that we are of the same coin with him on the opposite side of mine, and that there's an inevitable dividing us which is our unfaltering disagreement towards each other's beliefs. I remain on the accuracy and steady logic to comprehend problems while he brings it all to his personal judgement. He gets too attached for certain.

Be it human-made or Godly laws, I can manipulate them just as fast as Mello can contravene every single one of them. I smile at the thought of Mello's face if he ever heard me say it.

That's how L thought we would be great companions perhaps, because we create an outstanding balance out of each other despite his loathing towards the possibility of both us taking after our predecessor together.

"You're ruining our prior compromises, then again..."

 _Mello_ is ruining me. The Near the day before yesterday won't be thinking how to see him again.

 _'this doesn't mean anything.'_

How much times have I heard him say that? It's been always some sort of a reminder to me. Or rather, it's an underlying warning and he's been waiting for me to notice. He knew from the depths of his soul that we can never dare to take this a step further. We _can't._ He can't himself.

Mello just hated being alone because if he didn't, I won't be staring at the ceiling grazing over the left side of the bed with my palm, wishing for the impossible.

I won't assume what this pain meant, neither will I acknowledge the longing that's seemingly plaguing my vacant thoughts. Despite it swelling much worse within my chest I kept them at the deepest corner of my consciousness, afraid it will bring another meaning into this unbearable emptiness I thought I was so used of.

No matter what history we make we will always end up dying and forgotten eventually. Whatever afterlife is I never saw the relevance to pay importance to it for it's purely another universe that I don't think to be concerned about just yet.

However it seems like I've found a way to voluntarily kill myself earlier so perhaps I should.

* * *

"Alright class, today you are required to write an essay about any of the following lines included in the poem. For example..." She continued on as he gestured in the air like any stereotypical teacher does. All of them nodded except for me, and soon enough they were writing with most of them their tongues sticking out. My eyes flickered on the blank, piece of paper on my desk, and I scribbled down prethoughts with preciseness and ease between the lines. None of the words came from my real opinions, and they were all built by predictions and random, loose understanding. I plotted down what I _expect_ an average human feels which makes it less complicated compared to my own comprehension.

Everyone else seemed to write their hearts out when actually, there's no point and need to share such personal things.

 _'Who ever loved that not loved at first sight?'_

I ended the running, scripted sentences with a blotted dot of ink. I didn't have to read through them, sure that each notion was exactly how I, and Mr. Suggs, want it to be. And that's an instant A at least I suppose.

The figurative lines replayed in my head, and they were never relevant enough to me; though this time it seemed sensible.

 _Love?_

I've never once taken that into consideration. The word is greatly foreign to me, yet it plagued my mind completely.

I held on to the paper as I read through five paragraphs all about a quote from Romeo and Juliet. It's a piece of literature and remarkable at that, but have I ever once understood it?

It's quite ironic that not a single phrase of love, or the word love itself, was written down as I explained such an outstanding point of view about a romantic tragedy of two people.

How can I possibly write about love?

It's that one thing that I've always hated for the reason that there's no science can explain how it works, how it begins, or how to end it. Too much questions and little answers. Too much people have fallen for the same trap, in which it makes them weaker, more impractical, yet they stay and close the chances of escape. They love the helpless feeling of it and it's rather masochistic.

Am I anyone to talk?

"Oh...and for extra credentials you can take another seat work in your room, and explain what 'love' means to you. Is it a promise of eternity? Self-satisfaction? The fear of isolation? Name it. I know that all of you are past the standards of average and you have a future that you can stake all your efforts on. But then let's not forget that we are still humans and we have to act like one." He folded his arms and the middle-aged man smiled.

"Perhaps it's tragedy? A risk that's too unfair to take?" He contemplated as he looked away.

A shuffle came from behind and I met the cerulean blue I dreamed of last night. Just like before, I was taken into another imagery as I read through them, but they were void of the life I grew fond of. He held at least two drafts as he passed by me without another word. He gave the old man a greeting and left, pulling out his half-eaten chocolate bar without haste. It took me a few minutes to fully regain myself, and just then my eyes fell on a long object on the ground.

 _Bad Habits._

I stretched my buckled up knees out and proceeded to give the draft to him swiftly. I exited the suffocating room with a loud huff of relieved breath.

Other than being a second choice and a primary fallback, I knew my bad habit is Mello himself.

 _"I'm in love with Matt."_

I heard him say those words over and over even in my head at times. If I remember correctly, I was the first person whom he had told to. He was afraid of gambling with his chances of friendship or none, and he needed me for the very first time. After that so many more loud nights came for he knew I would be there and I would let him. You can say I didn't understand that he loved a man, or the mere sense of love, so I allowed his touch to spell them out and one way or another we took advantage of both our weaknesses.

Now, I quite get the idea.

Perhaps love is when you don't deserve the pain yet you handle it willingly. Perhaps although he's whispering in another man's ear with his arm snaked around his waist, you can't grow to despise him for it. It's terribly illogical for how you are still glad to hold half of his heart, or even if it's just purely your own imagination you will hold on to it tightly like an evidence that he was _there_. He was at least there once.

I thought it was still just a figment of my thoughts, or another trick of the light, but when his lips met another that's not mine, I knew I had to walk away with my eyes closed as ludicrous as it sounds before it's too late.

"Mello!"

"What? We're official, right?" The redhead nodded, and the he smiled so differently from what I've seen. It was the definition of genuine and happiness, yet another foreign feeling to me.

As I walked away, I gripped on to the only belonging I have from Mello in my pocket. I just have to wait again; wait for Matt to repeat their cycle.

A bad habit of theirs.

* * *

 **A/n sorry it's just a filler :)**


End file.
